Ten Years, Two Thousand Stomach Aches
by PrettyLittlePoutyMouth
Summary: A prompt from Saywhatbuck about the fickle flow of time. For Faberry Week Day 1: Second Chances. Mostly deals with the episode On My Way, and only canon compliant through Season 3.
1. Present

**Ten Years, Two Thousand Stomach Aches**

A/N: Saywhatbuck gave me this prompt almost a year ago, and I think I finally did it justice. Hope you all enjoy!

 **Present**

There's not much to complain about in Quinn Fabray's life, really.

She has a good job, a decent apartment. She likes where she lives. She has friends, a pretty good relationship with her family—well, with her mother, anyway.

She's heading home on the Green Line, back to her Brookline apartment. This is the worst part of her journey; the Green Line is old, and squeaky, and bumpy, and there usually isn't anywhere to sit, considering Quinn rides it just about when rush hour starts every day. The MBTA has said many times that it's going to update the Green Line, but it never happens.

But Quinn likes where she lives. Mostly. She still wishes she could've lived in Jamaica Plain again. Or even Somerville. But the apartment is cheaper and nicer in Brookline, and her roommate eventually convinced her to go there. And really, Quinn isn't financially able to be _that_ picky.

Which, she definitely loves her job. That's a definite. It's just…it really doesn't pay well. It's rewarding in so many other ways, though, that Quinn tries to overlook the pay.

She works for a nonprofit in Boston that aims to bring opportunities for the dramatic arts to underprivileged Boston public schools. It wasn't what Quinn dreamed of doing with her English degree with a Theater minor, but when she'd ended up moving to Boston with some friends after finishing up at Yale, it was one of the few relevant career opportunities she'd found. And there are public schools that _need_ drama opportunities. Specifically the ones that aren't exam schools, the schools parents of any kind of means pushed their kids to get into. The public school system is pretty divided, gentrified.

But watching a kid discover his or her own passion for acting is pretty gratifying. Almost as gratifying as a raise might be.

When she finally gets off the Green Line after what feels like an hour, but is really maybe twenty minutes at most, she briskly walks the seven minutes to her apartment. It's a warm spring afternoon, not hot yet, with air that's pleasantly moist, not yet uncomfortably humid. Brookline is full of old buildings, brownstones all along the streets with apartments on every floor, huge old apartment complexes with turreted attics and courtyards modernized just enough to make them charming, and shops all along the main streets, chains alongside local businesses, that bring down a protective metal rolling shutter at closing time. It's plainer than a lot of downtown Boston—more symmetrical, more patterned, more dull colors—but it's convenient. It's a nice little walk-able area to live, which is good, because Quinn doesn't want to pay anywhere between $50 to $250 a month to park there. She hasn't owned a car in years, and isn't looking to buy one.

She gets to her building, checks her mailbox, and climbs the wide wooden staircase to her second-floor apartment. Once inside, she sighs. She always feels better when she gets home. Her roommate isn't home yet, so Quinn takes the opportunity to turn on the public radio app on the TV and listens to it while she unwinds from her day with a cup of tea.

Her roommate comes home about an hour later, striding in and calling, "I brought Boloco!"

Quinn lifts her head. She's actually been dozing in her chair a little, lulled by Terry Gross's soothing interview with some soft-spoken man. She blinks until she feels more alert, then turns and calls sleepily, "Are they even still warm?"

Her roommate, Kristi, tosses her a burrito, "See for yourself."

"Thanks," Quinn manages to catch the burrito, despite her drowsiness, "What's the occasion?"

"I felt like Boloco tonight, figured you'd be all jealous if I didn't get you one," Kristi grins.

"Sounds about right," Quinn responds lightly, unwrapping her burrito. Teriyaki chicken. Her favorite. "Thanks."

"You already thanked me," Kristi sits on the chair across the room. "Least I can do considering you do most of the cooking."

"Well, after you managed to warp one of my pans, I figured it was safest to ban you from the kitchen." The banter is easy. She's known Kristi for almost ten years now. After struggling for two years to find her place at Yale, she'd finally met her and most of her other college friends in her Junior year. Kristi happens to be the friend she lives best with. She's clean, aside from a few major kitchen disasters, and laid-back, but responsible enough to never be late with rent or bill paying. They both still have other friends living in the city, though several have moved elsewhere for other opportunities, but Quinn had discovered with their other friends that they couldn't live together without risking ruining the friendship.

Maybe Quinn is picky. But her apartment has always been her safe haven, and she's always been particular about how it looks. And this particular apartment is one of her favorites that she's lived in. Hardwood floors in nice shape, with some of her mother's old oriental rugs on the floors. Walls decorated sparsely and tastefully, comfortable furniture in the living room, two bedrooms of decent enough size for them both to have a little desk and workspace inside, and a bathroom with an old-fashioned claw-footed tub. The kitchen is tiny and pushes right up against the also-tiny living room, but it's a small inconvenience.

They eat in companionable silence. After they're both finished, Kristi gathers up the trash and then, a few moments later, retreats to her bedroom to take a phone call. Quinn doesn't listen much, just starts looking around on Netflix for something to watch.

A few minutes later, Kristi comes out of her room. She's taken off her work shirt and is buttoning up a different shirt; only by living with her so long has Quinn learned to tell the difference between a work button-up and a casual one. "Hey, wanna go out with the girls tonight?" she asks casually.

Quinn twists her mouth, "Eh. I dunno."

"Aww, c'mon! It's Thursday, it's Queeraoke night! And there are plenty of places to hit before it starts!" She pouts, "I swear, you haven't been out with us since that Dyke Night last October with that girl with the legs who you never called…"

"I've been too tired," Quinn defends, "You know Spring is musical season for me and the kids, and that's even more time-consuming and intense."

"Uh huh," Kristi says, with the air of someone who's heard this before and isn't buying it, "The girls miss you."

"Please. They're over here all the time."

"Yeah, for movie night. But you never come out to them."

"I'm sorry. Tell them next time, okay?"

"Yeah. Sure." Kristi calls from the bathroom, where she's certainly fixing her hair, probably putting it into the wild wave she saves for nights out. She works at a domestic violence hotline, but, even though no one is ever going to see her hair, she keeps it combed down and tame for work.

Quinn has never understood how someone who deals with such stressful and horrifying things on a daily basis can be so cheerful at home.

Kristi comes out of the bathroom, hair swiped up, adjusting her button-up. "We're just worried about you, a little," she confesses. Quinn looks up at her darkly. "I mean, I know you're not still grieving for Lara, it's been almost two years, so…why not go out and meet some women, right?"

"I haven't got time for a woman," Quinn grunts, "And I'm fine," she adds. "I have to work tomorrow, so I'd really rather not go out."

Kristi shrugs, "Most of us work tomorrow. But okay. I'll catch you later. Leave the kitchen light on for me?"

"Of course. Have fun. Tell everyone hi!"

"Will do. 'Night, Quinn."

"'Night."

She's left in her lovely, quiet apartment with her Netflix and her comfy armchair.

She stays up too late getting sucked into some show she watched parts of in college. When it's ten o'clock and she still isn't sleepy, she switches to a book and a glass of wine. Finally, around eleven, she's ready to try to sleep.

She climbs into her bed, silently planning for tomorrow.

Quinn Fabray's life is pretty good. She doesn't have too many complaints, really.

She's fine by herself. Really.

. 

When Quinn's alarm goes off, she's sure that it's a mistake, because she hasn't used "O-o-h Child" as an alarm in _years_. But that doesn't mean she couldn't have accidentally set it last night. Somehow.

She reaches her hand out to grab for her phone and smacks it into her bedside table, hard. She curses, lifting her head, blinking. Her comforter is a different color, the bedside table is certainly higher than she remembers, yet it's familiar. Did Kristi play some kind of prank on her? She gropes on her beside table for her glasses, finding a pair that she doesn't even recognize, but when she puts them on, she can see.

"Oh, holy fuck," she utters. She looks around. It's got to be the most vivid dream she's ever had, and, she realizes, she must be lucid dreaming for the first time in her life, because she's absolutely sure that's what's happening.

She's in her bedroom in her mother's old house. The one her mother moved out of when she went to college. Her high school bedroom.

And the detail is exquisite.

She had no idea her memory could possibly have recreated the kind of detail she's seeing right now. The posters on the wall, the furniture, even the clothes on the floor that must've missed her laundry hamper when she must've tossed them the previous night—except, of course, that last night she was _in her apartment in Brookline_.

She looks around. Should she even be able to read the posters on her wall? She thought she'd read somewhere that this was much harder in dreams, that words and letters didn't tend to stay consistent, but every time she looks, they say the same. She dives toward her bedside table again, and picks up the book on it. It's _Jane Eyre_ , and she flips through it, and, yeah, there's no way she could remember some of the things she's reading in this book right now.

Something clicks in her mind. _Jane Eyre_. What year did she read this? That's right. Senior year English class, in the spring, they read it. It was the subject of one of her last papers for the class.

She looks around again, more. There's no way she's dreaming, but she can't possibly explain how she's woken up in the bedroom of her high school senior year. Is she losing her mind? Even so, everything is too real, too detailed for this to be some kind of hallucination.

It occurs to her, then, and she scrambles to grab her phone from her bedside table again. She clicks it on, and…

February 24th, 2012

 _February 24_ _th_ _, 2012_

It can't be. There's no way. She just somehow lost _twelve years_ of her life. Could she have dreamt them? No. They were too long, too detailed, too _true_. The Quinn Fabray she was in high school was absolutely deeply in the closet, too deep to even fully admit to herself that her feelings for girls were more than a passing thing, too deep to even admit to herself that she might be gay…

There's something odd, here, but she can't quite put her finger on it. Other than the obvious fact that she's either intensely dreaming right now or she _has_ been intensely dreaming the last decade or more of her life.

Quinn doesn't brush it off, but she can't stay in bed, either. A part of her needs to see how deep this reality goes. If she's insane, there must be cracks in this reality. If the years she's sure have passed were not real, she must be able to find evidence of their falsehood.

She gets out of bed. She's wearing a sheer, light blue nightgown—the kind her mother always bought for her and Frannie for Christmas every year. The kind that really didn't cover much, yet somehow evoked chastity and purity. It's deeply uncomfortable as soon as she notices it, given that she's spent years now sleeping in worn out t-shirts or tank tops and boxer shorts. So she hustles to her bathroom to take a shower.

There isn't much about her high school self's bathroom that throws her off too much. Except that she'd forgotten what the labels on some products used to look like, and she'd forgotten that she used to use certain brands. She can't possibly have reimagined how the Herbal Essences logo and branding would change, could she?

She takes off her nightgown, and she's in for a shock.

First, she's shocked at just how _skinny_ she is at this age. Not that she's ever really been fat in her adult life—she's always found exercise to be rewarding—but there's a difference between her thirty-year-old lean trimness and her gawky teenage youthful skinniness. She looks _weird_. Her breasts are definitely smaller; they'd gotten a little rounder when she was finishing college, though they've never been big, per se. She looks honestly underdeveloped and kind of grotesque. She doesn't even feel like she's looking at herself, but at some strange teenage girl's body that she shouldn't be privy to.

And secondly, she's shocked because there are no scars lining the left side of her body.

It's then that it hits her: this is pre-accident.

And then, it hits her again, why the date seemed to nudge something in the back of her brain, and she has to sit hard on the toilet.

She is 90% sure that this date seemed familiar to her because _this_ is the date that she nearly died driving to Rachel and Finn's wedding.

.

Quinn has always tried to see some kind of cosmic benevolence at work in her life; if she didn't, she's sure, she would have given up a long time ago. The accident is no exception. Sure, it left her with scars, physical and mental, but it taught her important lessons, about driving safety, and about what was valuable in life. It saved her relationship with her mother, which had been cold and distant until the accident and Quinn's subsequent recovery forced them to interact closely. There was certainly some _good_ in the accident.

That doesn't mean it's something Quinn is necessarily _happy_ about in her past. Though the scars are not as numerous or disfiguring as they could have been, they are present, and they do sometimes interrupt intimate moments. There are definitely times Quinn wishes she didn't have them and didn't have to explain them. And as much as she feels like her struggle to regain the ability to walk and dance and run taught her a lot about life, she often feels like the pain and fear she went through should never have to be experienced by anyone as young as her.

Of course, she feels that way about her pregnancy, too. But while Beth is an obvious, beautiful outcome of that experience, sometimes Quinn feels like all she has been left with after her accident are hard life lessons and pain. Nothing as rewarding as Beth.

 _Beth_. She thinks now, about Beth, and about what she knows will happen as Beth slowly becomes a teenager. How Beth will grow up musically inclined, but with a passion for animals that will make her convinced she wants to be a vet someday. How she'll excel in science classes, but also in art, and will feel torn about following in the footsteps of both Shelby and her biological parents, or wanting to strike out on her own and become a scientist. How she's still too young to really be sure of what her future will hold, but how she's a teenager now, with a more fully-formed sense of self and intellect, and talking to her is engaging and joyful and difficult all at once.

For the first time, Quinn worries that somehow, she has traveled back in time, and will be forced to relive the next twelve years, and that everything that has happened will be different, and that she and that particular incarnation of Beth will never speak again.

 _Okay_ , Quinn thinks, _Don't change anything_. But then she thinks about the fact that she appears to be sent back to the _day of her accident_ , and how this can't be a coincidence.

Certainly, she _is_ supposed to change some things.

Starting with her accident. Maybe, with all the knowledge and lessons she's already learned from that struggle, she can go through life not _actually_ having to experience the event in her past that she wishes most that she could change.

So Quinn decides to get moving, and go through her day as normally as she can. She showers quickly and gets dressed in one of the strange baby doll dresses she finds in her closet, and heads downstairs, trying to remember what she used to have for breakfast at this age. Not coffee, she doesn't think. Toast? A banana? Nothing?

Her mother is nursing a cup of tea, and Quinn stops when she sees her. She's forgotten what her mother used to look like when she was in high school, how her mother's hair was still so blonde, and how she wore it back tightly, and how she still dressed impeccably and wore so much makeup. Now, or, well, the "now" of Quinn's reality at thirty, she's remarried and retired, and wears jeans instead of dresses or dress slacks, minimal make-up, and has her silvery hair cut fashionably short. She carries herself with so much less rigidity, too.

Mostly, she forgot how _young_ her mother still was. And how hard life was for her now. A single parent, with limited help from her estranged ex-husband, working an administrative assistant job she really didn't like to keep them afloat.

Judy looks up at her, frowning slightly. "What?" she asks, a little sourly, as Quinn has been staring.

Quinn shakes her head. "Nothing. Good morning, Mom," she replies warmly. In her adult life, she really only sees her mother a few times a year, and it's good to see her now.

Judy shoots her a puzzled, hurt scowl, which stifles Quinn's impulse to hug her and, heart sinking, Quinn remembers. Judy's a single parent of a daughter who, ostensibly, hates her.

That _had_ been one good thing about the accident, forcing them to be closer. Quinn at this age was terrified of her mother finding out she was gay (not that she even could really articulate what she was hiding from them both, she just knew she resented each effort of her mother's to bring them closer). Heart sinking, Quinn wonders if she can repair that relationship without a disaster, but deep down, she knows she must. That's why she's here, isn't it?

So she opens the fridge and the cupboard and looks around. A glass of orange juice and a banana seems like a safe choice, though Quinn's brain is screaming for coffee. Not in a caffeine-deprived way that she would be on a morning as an adult, but in the way that it's been so routine for Quinn, for so many years, that it's hard to fathom starting a day without it.

She sits next to her mother to eat breakfast. Judy shoots her a wary look, as if certain that Quinn is going to levy some kind of insult or complaint at her, and Quinn inwardly cringes. She's not long past her Skank phase, if she remembers correctly, and she treated her mother absolutely vilely during that time. It hurts to remember it, to be reminded by her mother's face, just how she had wounded her.

After she eats, she goes upstairs to brush her teeth and gather her school things. She honestly doesn't remember when she's even supposed to be at school, not precisely. Nor exactly what she should bring. She packs _Jane Eyre_ , all of the folders she finds on her desk, and the Spanish textbook that's still in her backpack and hopes for the best.

She stops at the bottom of the stairs. "I'm going to school now," she tells her mother tentatively.

Judy is sorting through some papers on the counter and looks up uncertainly as Quinn speaks. Warily, she says, "Okay."

"Have a good day," Quinn offers just as warily.

"You, too," Judy returns automatically then, after a hesitation, she says, "Good luck."

Quinn can't help bristling at this, perhaps due to teenage hormones. She wants to tell her mother she doesn't need _luck_ to get through a day of school, but she stifles it, and her rational, adult brain kicks in to remind herself of how much she loves her mother. So she leaves the house.

She stops in her tracks as soon as she sees her red Bug. She can't help it, because she had loved this little car, and mostly she just remembers the pictures she saw from the accident, of it smashed, totaled, with blood streaks on the window. Yet here it is, whole.

Quinn hasn't driven for many years now, but she remembers how. Still, she's shaking a little as she starts her car. The interior is almost laughable. Cars have improved immensely since this car was made, but it's still familiar, it still feels right to drive. This is too surreal.

The way to school is still almost instinctive, though Quinn second-guesses the drive the whole way. She gets there and struggles to remember where she's supposed to park. Eventually, she just chooses a spot that looks right and figures she'll find a way to HBIC her way out of trouble if it's the wrong spot.

On her way into school, she notices Sam, who gives her a subdued smile. He looks remarkably the same, although as an adult he has a more flattering haircut. They haven't been close for years, but they've kept in touch, and she is happy to see him. "Better hurry. You don't want to be late," is all Sam says.

Quinn glances and checks one of the clocks on the wall. She doesn't exactly remember when homeroom starts, but she guesses it must be soon. Time to try to find her locker.

She thinks she remembers which hallway it was in, at least. But she has no clue which one is hers, or what her combination is. She can still pick the lock on it, she's pretty sure, but it just has to be the right one.

She spots Brittany, who is without Santana for once. Last time she saw Brittany, she'd had a faux hawk. But she figures this is a good opportunity. "Hey," she greets Brittany, trying to sound casual.

"Hi, Quinn," Brittany answers, "I'm waiting for Santana."

Quinn nods, "I get it. Listen, you ever have that day where you can't remember which locker is yours?"

Brittany nods solemnly, "It happens to me all the time," she says candidly.

Quinn shrugs conciliatorily, "Well, today's my day. Can you help me out?"

"Sure," Brittany nods, "But I thought this couldn't happen to you because you're not a real blonde."

Quinn twists her mouth, trying not to laugh, "I guess the dyes are seeping into my brain."

"Probably," Brittany answers, "Or maybe there's just too much in your brain. That's what happens to me. And you've been thinking a lot lately. I can tell."

"I guess," Quinn answers, as Brittany finally points her to her locker. She spins the knob a few times, pretending to guess her combination, then sighs, "It doesn't want to cooperate with me today. Guess I'll have to break in," and gets out a bobbie pin.

"I'll cover you," Brittany says, angling her body.

Quinn works in silence for about half a minute, trying to get a feel for the old lock, and Brittany finally asks, "Are you ready for today?"

"I guess," Quinn answers noncommittally.

"I am. I'm ready to dance. But we have to hurry."

Quinn makes a distracted hum, "In a minute," she replies, as the pin catches and the lock pops open.

The school intercom crackles on, and the weird cranky woman in Figgins's office nearly shouts, "All members of the New Directions, please report to the choir room!"

At that moment, Quinn notices the black dress with the gold belt hanging in her locker, and she remembers.

"Oh, fuck. It's Regionals today," she mutters.

"Well, _yeah_ ," Brittany stares at her, "Come on, Santana must already be down there. We have a routine to learn before we get onstage!"

.

The choir room looks old and small. Quinn spends a lot of her time in high schools with her current job, mostly high schools that haven't been updated in decades, but the McKinley High choir room still looks older. Maybe it's because she hasn't been here in so long, and everyone in it looks strange and young.

Brittany heads right over to stand with Santana, who looks pretty similar—same hair, same way of scowling passively—just without the posture that indicates true contentment with life. Puck is nearby, chatting with Sam, and he looks almost laughable with his floppy, unkempt Mohawk; she's glad he eventually outgrew that terrible haircut.

Everyone is familiar and yet strangely young. Even if they don't seem to have changed much, it's amazing how young they look. There are also those two younger kids whose names she can't really remember: the weird rich girl and the weird Irish kid. She's definitely lost touch with them.

And then, as she takes a seat next to Brittany, she sees Finn stride in, followed by Rachel, and her breath stops.

While she notices that Finn is strangely fresh-faced, it's Rachel who she can't keep her eyes off of. Rachel, who looks so small and young that she reminds Quinn of a fragile baby bird. She's gripping Finn's hand like it's a lifeline. Quinn's stomach churns and her heart turns over.

Rachel Berry has a bright future ahead of her; Quinn knows that. She sees the Facebook posts, the links to news articles about her shows. She hasn't been able to bring herself to attend a show, but she knows Rachel is happy and successful.

She also knows that Finn is a detour in Rachel's life that complicates it, that causes unnecessary heartbreak and angst. They talked some throughout college, and it was always about Finn, always about his inability to let go of the girl he almost married, and about how Rachel could never fully leave him behind.

Why the universe was forcing her to rewatch their twisted engagement, Quinn can't imagine.

Rachel beams at the group at large, and the two take a seat as Mr. Schue comes in. He strides up to the whiteboard and lists out their three performances.

"Okay, guys. In light of what happened to David Karofsky, these are the pieces we've decided on for Inspiration. Now, if I could have Brittany and Mike's help, we can finish putting together our choreography."

Quinn realizes she'd completely forgotten about Karofsky, and feels bad for a moment, but then figures, with the fact that she'd have been in a horrible car accident later in the day, that forgetting him is kind of excusable. The two lithe teens stride up, and they start what is apparently a review of choreography they've learned before, but of course, Quinn can't remember choreography from twelve years ago.

Quinn muddles through it until about halfway through the song, when Rachel runs straight into her. They steady themselves, and Rachel blurts a quick, awkward apology and moves away. Frowning, Mr. Schue stops them. "Wait, guys. Quinn, are you okay?"

Quinn nods, feeling horribly embarrassed. Even as an adult, being singled out by an authority still bothers her. "Yeah. I'm sorry. I'm not sure why I can't seem to get this down."

"You were fine yesterday," Brittany frowns. Mike nods his assent.

Quinn shrugs, unable to come up with a good excuse for how she could've forgotten the choreography overnight. She continues to muddle through the moves. Parts feel familiar, and it's like her body remembers what to do, but mostly, she just tries to mimic, a half step behind, the moves of the person next to her.

Then, they're working on some new choreography for one of the songs, and Quinn is relieved to be on the same page as everyone again. She'd forgotten how much of their performances were rushed and last minute and is amazed, for a moment, that they ever won anything.

They practice for as long as they can, until it's time to change and get ready for the competition. At least it's taking place at McKinley, so they don't have to go far. After the Warblers perform what turns out to be a moving setlist, and the weird a capella choral group confuses everyone, the New Directions get ready to take the stage.

Backstage, as they're all changed and getting pumped to perform, Finn makes an announcement. "I know it's kind of short notice, but…after the competition, Rachel and I are gonna get married, at the justice of the peace at the Lima Municipal Center."

Rachel jumps in excitedly, "There will be some light refreshments afterwards. My dads and I were rolling finger sandwiches all night long."

"With everything that's happened lately," Finn continues pensively, "we thought a lot about what Mr. Schue said. We didn't want to wait anymore. We just want to live every day like it's our last. So we want to thank a lot of you guys that were supportive of our decision to get married."

Sounding more tentative, Rachel continues, "And for those of you who maybe weren't the biggest fans of our impending nuptials, we thank you also." Quinn feels more than sees Rachel's eyes flick to her with those words. She chews her lip unconsciously. "So after we win, we'd really love it if all of you would come to our wedding." Back in this moment, when all she could see was Rachel's future falling away, Quinn feels all those same feelings once again: the anxiety, the anger, the fear. She remembers, vaguely, that earlier in that week they had been helping Rachel choose her wedding dress, and she had stormed out. Or had that been a dream?

Quinn muddles through the choreography with everyone else, feeling relieved that performers like Rachel do much work to take the focus away from her. She keeps up reasonably well.

And, considering how much Quinn feels like the performance is sloppy, their win is actually somewhat of a surprise. She's not sure how everything might change if she'd managed to make them lose Regionals, but she's glad they didn't.

They are allowed a brief celebration, and then they're sent back to class. For Quinn, it's a free period, and while she looks through her class notes, trying to remember anything she might need to know, she's called to Sue Sylvester's office.

She enters, and Coach eyes her, a particular gleam in her eye, and begins to talk about how much she admires her. Quinn smiles as it all comes back to her, and Coach presents her with a uniform. She remembers how excited she was to have the uniform again. And how she has to show Rachel.

She finds Rachel easily, and even though it's been so long, and even though she knows the answer, she asks, again, the same question that nearly broke her over a decade ago, "When you were singing that song…you were singing it to Finn and only Finn…right?"

She's frustrated and sad that the anxiety is still there in her body, the hope that Rachel's answer might be different, somehow. But there it is, still, the most miniscule nod, and Quinn can't handle any further response than that, so she rushes on, about how he makes her happy, and how she'd love to come to the wedding.

And then, Quinn thinks, it should be easy from here.

She attends Cheerios practice; she can't get kicked off the team the first day she makes it back on. Afterwards, Coach keeps her longer than any of the other cheerleaders to discuss strategy, and Quinn is glancing at her watch. She doesn't _need_ Cheerios, she knows, but she had wanted it, and maybe, being able to stay on the team will give her something she's missing.

She heads home to get her bridesmaids dress. She's late, but she's careful, now. She knows she can get there without crashing.

Yet again, she's stuck behind a tractor. Her heart rate increases.

A cold sweat breaks out on her skin when she hears her phone beeping in the passenger's seat. This time, however, she makes it to the stop sign and stops before tapping back a response.

A truck blows past. Quinn has no idea if it's the same truck that hit her, years ago. Her breath comes out in a whoosh, and she sits at the stop sign for another few moments, collecting herself. Then, she continues on, taking her time. Last time, Rachel waited too long for her, and the marriage couldn't happen. She doesn't want to risk getting there in time for the wedding to _actually_ happen.

All she wants to change is the accident.

She parks and hurries in for show, toward the group of pink and black-clad students. Rachel turns to look at her, in her white dress, and her face splits into a smile. "You made it."

"Yeah," Quinn nods. "Sorry I'm late."

"It's okay," Rachel says quickly.

"It's not," Finn answers dully from behind her. He's towering over her, hard eyes fixed on Quinn. "It's too late, Rachel. They won't let us in now."

"No, they will," Rachel says decisively. "They know we've been waiting."

"I'm sorry, sweetie, but they won't," one of Rachel's dads cuts in delicately. "They're locking up. They said we're welcome to come back Monday, but they really need us to leave."

"How can they do this?" Rachel asks, scandalized. "We want…we just want to get married!" Finn's body is rigid with tension. Kurt approaches and places a hand on his shoulder, but he shrugs it off forcefully and strides away.

"I know, baby girl, but it's too late. You can do it again another time." He draws his daughter toward him, and Quinn watches, heart constricting, as her first tears start to fall. "Maybe it was too rushed. Too soon. It's absolutely okay to wait," he murmurs softly.

Rachel blinks away tears and nods, once. Quinn is sure she's the only one who sees it, and Rachel meets her eye for a brief moment, as if ensuring Quinn's secrecy.

"You're telling me I have to wear this thing _twice_?" Santana asks rhetorically, breaking the tension. Rachel pulls away from her father to give Santana a watery smile.

They all start filing out in a sober crowd. Finn remains behind with his parents and Kurt; at one point, Quinn is sure she hears his angry, unintelligible shout. Beside her, Rachel closes her eyes for a moment, but continues to walk with the group.

At the door, though, she stops. "I want to wait for Finn," she tells her fathers.

"Okay," one of them says soothingly, "I'm sure he's coming."

Rachel turns to the departing wedding entourage. "Thank you for coming," she tells them all, dully.

"Sure. Let's do it again sometime," Santana says, half sincere.

"Rachel, I'm…so sorry," Quinn says. She's not, not at all, but she can't keep watching Rachel fall apart without acknowledging her role in it. Behind her, the rest of the Glee club is leaving, eager to get away from the awkward moment.

Rachel shakes her head forcefully. "No, it's…it's okay," she says softly. She glances behind her, probably looking for Finn, before saying, "It's probably for the best." Then, so quietly that Quinn almost doesn't hear it, she says, "Maybe I wasn't ready."

Quinn isn't sure what to say, so she just nods and leaves. Santana and Brittany are getting into the car parked next to hers, and Santana leans out the car window as Quinn approaches.

"So. Rachel couldn't get married without you there. What's that about?"

"I…don't know," Quinn tells her honestly.

"Uh huh," Santana answers, searching Quinn's face. Quinn glares back. Santana smirks, but doesn't say anything else, and she drives away. Quinn sighs, gets in her own car, and drives home.

She's not sure what to do with the rest of her night. So much of her school day was taken up by Regionals that she still has barely any inkling of what's going on in her classes. Besides, it's Friday. Didn't she used to do things on Friday nights?

Her mother comes home in the evening and, for lack of anything else to do, she goes downstairs to see her. She's fixed the accident, but the accident fixed her relationship with her mother. That part is up to her now.

"Hey," Quinn tells her.

Her mother stiffens slightly. She's sorting through the mail. "Hello."

"Do you want me to help with dinner?" Quinn asks.

Judy turns to regard her curiously for a moment before saying, "Sure."

It's awkward, the two of them cooking together, being so tentative in each others' company. But it keeps Quinn busy.

So busy that she has no idea her phone is blowing up until she escapes back up to her room after dinner to get away from the awkward tension.

She picks up her phone to see she has about fifteen missed calls from Finn, as well as a few voicemails.

She can only listen to the first few seconds of the first voicemail, which is just Finn angrily shouting, before she turns it off.

The doorbell rings.

A horrible feeling in her stomach, Quinn hurries downstairs to get to the door before her mother. But as she rounds the corner to the staircase, Judy's already opening the door and saying, "Oh, hello, Finn."

"Where's Quinn?" he growls.

"I'll get her," Judy turns to shout for her, but then sees her, frozen in the middle of the staircase.

Finn pushes past Judy, not violently, but in that way he has where he seems to forget just how big he is. "How could you?" he says. His voice isn't the shouting rage she heard on her phone, but cold, and rigid.

"What are you talking about?"

"What did you say to Rachel?" he asks.

"I…didn't say anything."

"She doesn't want to get married anymore. At least, not soon. She wants to wait and she says you made her realize."

"She said what?"

"The engagement is off!" Finn yells, "Or, at least, delayed, for a long time." His voice is a little quieter now, an edge of confusion in it, as if he's not really sure if he's still engaged to her or not. His hands are balled into fists. "What did you say to her?!"

"I didn't say anything!" Quinn shouts back, adrenaline coursing through her. She's still only halfway down the stairs, but having a furious Finn Hudson staring up at her fills her with fear. She's never been afraid of him before now. But then, even when he's been angry before, she's never seen him look quite like this. She has no idea if he's even aware of how threatening he's being.

Her mother approaches Finn warily; evidently she, too, is a little afraid of him. "Finn?" she says cautiously, "I'm going to have to ask you to please leave."

He glances at her, and maybe her expression brings some sense to him, because his shoulders relax somewhat. But he looks back up at Quinn. "Rachel's all I have," he tells her piteously, "If you've taken her from me…"

"How can I take her from you?" Quinn asks bitterly.

He stares at her, but then nods, once. "She couldn't marry me without you there. Why? Why are you so important to her? More important than me?" He spits the words.

"Finn," Judy says, warning in her voice. He raises both his hands in a gesture of surrender, then turns and leaves, slamming the door behind him.

Judy turns her gaze to Quinn. "What on earth happened?" she asks.

Quinn sits down heavily on the stairs. "I don't know," she says honestly. "That was…a little scary."

"Yes," Judy agrees. She watches Quinn for a moment. "You don't want him to marry that girl, do you?"

"No," Quinn says honestly, "But it's more I don't want that girl to marry him." She stands up and walks back to her room before her mom might be able to piece together exactly what she means. Her heart hammers. It takes her a long time to fall asleep, as much as she tries to distract herself with the nostalgia of old television.


	2. Past

**Past**

Quinn's alarm goes off again the next morning, with the same song, and the same stupidly early time. It's supposed to be Saturday, she thinks angrily, and she knows she didn't set her alarm.

She'd hoped against hope, somehow, that this weird going-back-in-time thing might be just for one day, but as soon as she hears "O-o-h Child," her heart sinks. She gropes for the phone, rubbing her eyes, and glances around her bedroom just enough to satisfy her suspicions: she's still in 2012, she's still in her high school bedroom.

But it's Saturday, so she turns off the offending alarm, and tries not to think too hard about how she's about to have to relive the next decade. She doesn't know how her life is going to be different.

She's just about drifted back to sleep when there's a knock at the door, "Quinn," it's her mother's tentative voice, "Are you getting up?"

"Of course not, Mom, it's Saturday," Quinn groans.

There's a pause, and then Judy says uncertainly, "It's Friday. Are you feeling okay? You have Regionals today."

"I…what? No. That was yesterday." Quinn sits up, wondering if she's lost her mind. She gropes for her phone again.

February 24th, 2012

 _February 24_ _th_ _, 2012_

The screen glow defiantly, and all logic seems to vanish. "What the _fuck_?!" Quinn whispers, beyond thought.

"What was that?' Judy asks. It's clear by her tone she definitely didn't hear Quinn's language.

"Nothing," Quinn responds, "I just must've had a vivid dream or something because I could have sworn it was Saturday." But she knows she wasn't dreaming.

"Sorry to be the bearer of bad news," Judy says awkwardly.

"It's okay. Thanks for waking me," Quinn answers, equally awkward.

"Yeah," Judy says.

Quinn leaps out of bed and showers and dresses quickly. She's already late for school. She rushes down the stairs, stomach growling with hunger, but she doesn't have time for breakfast. Her mother is just about to leave the house herself.

"Thanks again for the wake up call," Quinn says, tiredly but sincerely.

Judy looks surprised. "You're welcome. And good luck."

Quinn drives to school. It's the first time since she's really woken up that she has a chance to think about what's going on. All she knows is that she seems to be reliving the day again. But why? She's pretty sure she's not going crazy, although the evidence that she is seems to be rapidly piling up. She's time traveled and repeated days twice in the last few days, or at least, she believes she has.

Either she's insane, or some higher power wants her to change things. She tries to talk to this higher power on her drive, tries to ask questions, but she gets no response.

So, insanity starts to look more likely.

But she can't let herself think that. Her faith in a higher power, whether God or some other force, has sometimes been all she has to cling to. She'll keep that faith, for now.

She makes it to school a little late. At least she can find her locker this time, though she still has no idea what the combination might be. She wonders if she can find it someplace. Maybe she can get Coach Sylvester to find out her combination for her, except that admitting she forgot it was a giant sign of weakness, which might mean she won't get an answer.

She breaks into her own locker again to get her dress and hurries down to the choir room. They're in the middle of reviewing choreography.

"Quinn! Where have you been? We had the office page you several times."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Schue. I overslept."

"Well, I'm glad you made it," he answers, "We're rehearsing, please join us."

This time, at least, Quinn keeps up with the choreography better. And having a head start on the new choreography everyone is supposed to be learning doesn't hurt.

As they're watching the other groups perform, Quinn tunes out enough to think about what to do. Obviously something isn't right about what she did last time. What's supposed to change?

She wonders, with a feeling like a kick to the gut, whether she's supposed to let Rachel marry him.

She wrestles with this thought all afternoon, as Finn announces the wedding, as they compete, as she receives her uniform from Sue, and as she asks Rachel if she can attend.

She even asks that same question, again, as if the answer could possibly have changed. She wants to do this right. She wants to do her best to give them her blessing, even though her insides are screaming.

After Cheerios, she slips out with Santana and Brittany, before Coach Sylvester can waylay her. She wants time to head home, get ready, and put on her game face.

She needs to be ready to keep that smile mask on, no matter how the ceremony goes.

This time, there's no cell phone distraction as she drives to the courthouse, because she's on time. The only distraction is in her own head, as she tries to rationalize the choice. She must be supposed to let this happen, because the relationship will disintegrate on its own, and Rachel won't be left wondering what might have been.

She's sitting, waiting, with the rest of the wedding party, when Rachel emerges, looking incredible in her wedding dress. Finn is beside her, looking excited.

Rachel looks right at her. "You came," she says, with a little disbelieving chuckle.

Quinn stands, "Of course I did," she tells her, "I said I would." She can't stop looking at her, even though her heart is constricting.

They share what feels like a long moment, just gazing at each other, when Finn finally says, "We're ready, then. Come on, Rachel."

Quinn blinks and looks away, in time to see all four parents of the bride and groom exchange panicked looks. But in the end, they do nothing as everyone files into the courtroom where the short ceremony is to take place.

Rachel stays outside, while Finn and the men file in and take their places toward the front. Then, in a hurried procession to the stereotypical wedding waltz, the bridesmaids file in, followed by Rachel, flanked by her fathers, who both look like they've swallowed lemons.

It's the end of the day, and the judge clearly wants to go home, so the ceremony is hurried, but Rachel and Finn don't seem to care as they gaze at each other with hearts in their eyes, gripping hands. Finn recites the typical vows, while Rachel recites her own, promising to belong to him forever. It makes Quinn's throat tighten.

They exchange rings, and kiss, and it's over.

Rachel and Finn are married, and the burning in Quinn's guts doesn't go away for the rest of the night. She leaves early, after eating a finger sandwich she really doesn't have the appetite for, and when she goes home, she screams into her pillow until she runs out of air.

.

When the alarm wakes Quinn up the next morning, she scrambles the check the date on her phone.

February 24th, 2012

 _February 24_ _th_ _, 2012_

Quinn laughs and cries for a full minute, until she needs to gasp for air, then she gets control of herself.

So she's _not_ supposed to let them get married. She sends a thankful prayer to God, or whoever is up there, then jumps into the shower.

She needs a new strategy.

As she goes through her day on autopilot, she wonders if the problem is that she was being disingenuous. Maybe she should just not attend. Be honest with Rachel.

"Yeah! Just like that!" Brittany's voice cuts into her thoughts, "How did you know?"

Quinn blushes when she realizes she's been simply continuing on with the choreography that Brittany is just now teaching everyone. "I don't know. It felt right."

Brittany exchanges a pleased glance with Mike. "That must mean we're _really_ good."

He nods, with a little smile, and Quinn wishes she could hide. She pays attention through the rest of rehearsal, and then rehearses what she might say to Rachel while the other groups perform.

By the time they've won the competition, she thinks she knows what to do.

She gets the uniform from Sue and puts it on, but this time, when she approaches Rachel in the hall, she tries to project more HBIC energy into her approach.

"How do I look?" she asks, tossing her hair and fixing Rachel with an intense look.

"I…you look beautiful. You always do," Rachel answers softly.

Quinn smiles a little. She can't help it. "Listen, Rachel," she says, her own voice softening, "I've been doing a lot of thinking, and I've decided, I can't attend your wedding."

Rachel's face falls, "I know. You've made that abundantly clear."

"It's just that…" Quinn sighs, "I can't be a part of something I don't agree with. And I can't support it. I _know_ your future, Rachel. Everyone who looks at you can see it. Broadway stardom. Tonys. A successful career in the spotlight." It's all true. "But the biggest thing that's going to hold you back is…Finn. And you'll be lonely, because you'll be forever wondering when he's going to come back to you." Rachel is staring at her like she's insane, and Quinn shakes her head, realizing how she must sound, as certain as she is of all of it. "I just…please reconsider."

"Please don't speak to me anymore," Rachel says quietly.

"Rachel…"

"No, Quinn. You've made your point, and you know what? If you can't support me, just leave me the hell alone!"

Rachel spins on her heel and runs away. But not before Quinn can see her face break into tears.

Unsure of what else to do, Quinn finishes the school day and goes to Cheerios. After practice, she informs Santana and Brittany that she won't be attending the wedding.

"No surprise there," Santana mutters, "Look, we all know this is stupid, but it's their mistake to make. Don't you want to at least witness this trainwreck?"

"I can't," Quinn says simply, "Besides, Rachel doesn't want me there."

"Fine. Well, I'll text you and tell you how it goes."

"You really don't have…actually, yeah, could you?"

Santana laughs, "Knew you were curious. I've got you."

Quinn heads home. She opens her closet and stares at the bridesmaids dress. She puts it on, reclines on her bed, and waits, distracting herself by flipping channels.

Finally, she gets a text from Santana.

 **Well, she did it. Looked sad as fuck the  
whole time, but she did it. Haven't seen  
her and Finn since the ceremony ended,  
but sounds like they're fighting.**

Quinn closes her eyes, feeling very responsible for the hurt they're both experiencing.

About an hour later, she gets a call from Finn. She answers, warily.

"Hello?"

"Goddamn it, Quinn, what did you say to my wife?!" He's half yelling, and Quinn doesn't know whether her anxiety spikes from his tone or from hearing him say wife.

"What are you talking about?"

"Don't play dumb," he snaps.

"You're right, I'll leave that to you," she snaps back, unable to resist. Arguing with Finn was already second nature to her, and with how crazy and stressed she's felt lately, she can't control it.

He's silent for a moment, "Wow. Ok. I have no idea why Rachel wanted you at the wedding so badly. She was so fucking sad you weren't there that she says she doesn't even feel married. But you know what? I'm just going to tell her what I've always known. You're just a bitch, and all you care about is yourself." He hangs up.

Quinn wants to scream. It takes her a long time to fall asleep, and as she does, all she can think is, _this can't be the right choice_. _Can it?_

 _._

The alarm sounds, and Quinn sinks back into her pillows with a sigh. Just to be sure, she picks it up and looks.

February 24th, 2012

She turns it off and turns to stare at the ceiling for a moment. Okay. So that didn't work. They fought, but it's clearly not what needed to happen.

Then _what_?

She sighs and gets up, sweeping her hair out of her eyes. She gets ready for school again, making a mental note that this time, she has to find out her locker combination. She's gotten very fast at breaking into her locker, but still.

On the way to school, she decides that this time, she'll have to lean on Finn. Maybe he's the key. She knows his life turns out relatively happy, too, but, according to future-Puck, he never did get over Rachel. Maybe if he could get over her now, she'd be able to move on without forever being held back by him.

She goes through the day. It's getting so boring now that she doesn't even pretend to not know the new choreography that Brittany teaches them, leaving Brittany certain that she and Quinn shared a dream in which they danced together. They win, and Quinn can't pretend to celebrate. In Sue Sylvester's office, she's tapping her foot, waiting for the reveal of her uniform, and all she can say is "Thanks, I won't let you down," and then she's gone, leaving Coach a bit flummoxed.

Quinn changes, but this time, it's not Rachel she seeks out, it's Finn. She finds the class he's in quickly; it's hard to miss him, even seated at a desk. She knocks on the door, puts on her best responsible face, and tells Finn's teacher that Mr. Schue needs him. Finn rises, brows furrowed, but he seems happy to get out of class. They walk toward the auditorium; Quinn is sure it should be deserted now that the competition is over.

"What's Mr. Schue want?" Finn asks conversationally.

"You'll see," Quinn says, as they enter backstage.

Once back there, in the dark, Finn looks around uncertainly, then says, "Um, Quinn?"

"Yeah?"

"No offense, but you know I'm not into you anymore, right?"

Quinn rolls her eyes, "I'm not trying to seduce you, you moron."

"Oh," Finn says, eyes still darting around, "Then what?"

"We have to talk."

"Okay…" Finn says slowly, "About what?"

"Your wedding."

He looks confused, "Aren't you not coming? That's what Rachel said."

"I'm hoping I won't be an issue, after we talk. Because you need to understand what the rest of us know. This is a mistake."

Finn crosses him arms, "Oh, so this is an intervention? Come on. If you're the only one trying to stop me, don't bother. Everyone else is happy for us."

"Everyone else is too polite to tell you you're being stupid," Quinn shoots back, "I guess I'm the only one with the balls to say it. I get it, Finn. You've got a girl who's gorgeous, talented, and way, _way_ out of your league. Maybe not by high school standards, but by _life_ standards. If I were you, I'd want to pin her down while we were more on equal footing, too. I'd tether myself to her so that when she gets out of Lima to be the star she's destined to be, she'd have to take me, too."

"What are you saying?" he sounds guarded now. Guarded but curious.

"I'm saying that your futures don't match, Finn. Think about it. You're not a Lima Loser, because staying in Lima isn't a bad thing for you. You're a guy who's going to be perfectly happy taking over Burt's garage someday soon. You're a guy who's going to hate stardom, who's going to hate watching Rachel kiss beautiful, talented men onstage, who's going to hate having to share her with the world. But you're also smart enough to realize that the world deserves her more than you do, and that she deserves the world. You have to know that."

Finn's hands are balling up into fists and he looks constipated—a look Quinn knows well. She remembers when Finn told them all he was going to let Rachel go to New York, how he didn't want to hold her back. All Quinn is really doing is telling Finn what he already knows, deep inside.

"Just think about it, okay? End it cleanly now, and the two of you won't have to waste miserable years trying to fit a square peg into a round hole. You don't fit together."

"I don't _want_ to…" he doesn't finish his sentence.

"It's not about what you want. It's about doing what's right, for her. Be her hero, Finn. Set her free."

He doesn't say anything for a long moment, and then he rubs his face thoughtfully, turns without a word, and leaves.

Quinn lets her breath out in a rush. Now to wait.

She finds Rachel, somewhere else in the school, and they have that same conversation, again, about how she wants to come to the wedding. If Finn does show up, she hopes her presence will remind him of all the good points she made.

She arranges to get Indian food delivered to the locker room after Cheerios practice, so that Coach Sylvester is too busy throwing up from the strong smells to stop Quinn from going home. She goes home, changes, and heads to the ceremony.

At first, Rachel is just excited to see all her friends there, especially Quinn. It takes her several minutes to realize Finn hasn't shown up yet.

"Where's Finn?" she asks the group at large.

Kurt shrugs, "He said he had to pick something up first when we all left the house."

"He needs to hurry," Rachel laments, and pulls out her phone, texting rapidly.

A horrible feeling starts in Quinn's stomach, and she wonders if she's giving her fate to Finn, and if he'll survive it.

At five minutes to five o'clock, Santana says, "Face it. Finn's not coming," while gazing at Rachel with pity.

"He _has_ to. He said he would!" Rachel pulls out her phone again, "He's not answering!"

The horrible feeling intensifies, until Quinn has to pace, too. Santana watches her curiously, and she just shakes her head.

Five minutes later, the judge is shaking his head, telling her he's sorry, but it's too late. They're closing, and she can't get married today. Rachel tries to argue, but her dads are there, soothing her, and a minute later, her phone is ringing.

"It's him!" she says excitedly, and everyone quiets as she answers. She walks a few steps away, but it's really no more private. "Hello? Finn?"

In her excitement, she must've hit speakerphone, because they all hear it when Finn says in a tearful voice, "I can't. I'm so sorry, Rachel, but I can't marry you."

Rachel wails. All the power in her voice echoes through the municipal building. Before Quinn can even think about it, she's striding over and taking Rachel in her arms. Everyone else is standing or sitting, frozen, and staring at Rachel in pity and horror.

Rachel clings to Quinn like she's a life raft, and Quinn holds on right back, her heart feeling like it's being shredded with each cry that Rachel tries to muffle against her shoulder. Rachel keeps trying to speak, little phrases that sound like, "How could he?" and Quinn has no answer, except to hum soothingly and rub her back.

"We'll take her from here," Rachel's dad says, reaching for her, but Rachel just holds tighter.

"Rachel?" Quinn asks uncertainly, "Do you want to go with your dads?" Rachel doesn't respond, and Quinn glances at her dads for a moment before asking tentatively, "Do you want to come home with me?"

Rachel nods, once, and Quinn glances up again, seeking permission. Rachel's dad spreads his hands in surrender, and the other grips his shoulder reassuringly as Quinn guides Rachel out of the municipal building, unable to believe that Rachel would choose to go with her.

Quinn isn't really sure what to do with Rachel that evening, but Rachel turns out to be easy to take care of. She doesn't say much. She just wants a cup of tea and to watch something, so Quinn goes and gets her mom's copy of _The Sound of Music_. They just sit and watch together.

"Why me?" Quinn finally asks.

Rachel turns red, watery eyes to her, and gives her the barest smile. "You know what it's like to fall apart completely. I know you won't judge me."

Quinn wants to say that Rachel has no idea how much _she's_ supposed to be the one falling apart today, literally, physically, but she can't. Instead, she gets her another cup of tea and some toast with cinnamon, no butter.

It's not exactly what she's dreamed of when the two of them curl up in Quinn's bed at the end of the night, but Quinn has to admit it's nice to feel Rachel so close to her.

"Quinn?" Rachel asks quietly.

"Hmm?"

"Thank you."

"I just want you to be happy," Quinn tells her, awkwardly.

 _This is it_ , Quinn thinks as she falls asleep, _This feels right_.

She falls asleep smelling Rachel's hair and grinning.

.

When the alarm sounds in the morning, Quinn's eyes fly open, and she immediately gropes for Rachel, desperate.

"No, no, no no no NO!" Quinn shouts in despair at her empty bed. She snatches up her phone.

February 24th, 2012

 _February 24_ _th_ _, 2012_

"Fuck!"

Quinn buries her face in her hands.

She _had_ her. She had Rachel _in her bed_. She as good as _stole_ her from Finn.

And it still wasn't right.

"What do you want me to do?!" she shouts at the ceiling.

"Quinn?" her mother knocks on the door tentatively, "Are you okay?"

"No!" Quinn shouts, then subsides slightly, "I'm sorry, Mom. I'm just not feeling well, and I'm upset because it's Regionals today," she lies.

"Oh," Judy says, "Do you want to stay home? I'll call the school."

"Yes, please," Quinn says, falling back onto her pillows.

There's an awkward pause, and then Judy asks, "Do you need me to stay home with you?"

"No, I'll be fine. Just bring me something to drink?"

Judy gets her ibuprofen, ginger ale, and crackers, makes sure she's okay, and heads to work before too long.

Quinn sleeps. She's so mentally exhausted, she's not sure what else to do with her day.

Besides, it doesn't matter, does it? It's all the same day, she can take one of them off.

She gets a text from Brittany after Regionals to tell her they won, but she was missed. Quinn rolls her eyes. She's so insignificant, they can win without her. Santana texts her to say Coach Sylvester is looking for her and to see her when she's feeling better.

And after school, she gets a call from Rachel. She doesn't answer.

About fifteen minutes later, the doorbell rings.

Quinn considers ignoring it, but curiosity drives her out of bed and down the stairs.

Rachel is on her doorstep.

"Um. Hey," Quinn runs a hand through her unwashed hair, trying to straighten it somewhat.

"Hello," Rachel says soberly, "I've brought your homework. How are you feeling?"

"Not good," Quinn says, which isn't a lie, considering being so close to Rachel right now, after last night, is causing her heart to constrict painfully.

"I was hoping you'd be feeling better," Rachel looks down at her shoes, "So that maybe I could get you to reconsider attending my wedding. I'd really love it if you could make it."

Quinn shakes her head. She can't even think about it. "Sorry. I'd rather not risk vomiting all over your dress. You look too beautiful in it."

Rachel cracks a smile, "That's sweet of you to say."

"It's just true," Quinn tells her. It doesn't matter. "You've always been beautiful."

Rachel looks up at her, curious. "What?"

Quinn shifts on her feet awkwardly. "Nothing."

"I just thought you said…" Rachel shakes her head, "Never mind."

"Would it make a difference if I had…said…?" Quinn asks.

"A difference in what?" Rachel asks.

Quinn reaches out and takes Rachel's hand. "What if I told you that…that there's been someone else, right in front of you, all this time, who feels exactly for you what Finn does?"

Rachel stares at her, "You…"

"I've been in love with you for years," Quinn tells her honestly. More years than Rachel can even imagine, at this point.

"Quinn…" Rachel gazes at her for a long moment, her expression soft and inviting.

For a moment, Quinn is sure they're going to kiss, and her insides somersault.

"Quinn…I can't," Rachel tells her softly, pulling her hand away, "You're the prettiest girl I've ever met, and I'm flattered, and honestly, intrigued, but…I'm getting married today. I understand if you can't be there, but…I wish you could. I don't think you have any idea what you mean to me."

Quinn stares at the ground, then nods, once. "I guess, if nothing else, I'll just be happy that you finally know what you mean to me." She reaches out a hand to take the bag containing her homework, which Rachel passes to her slowly. Then she closes the door and trudges up the stairs.

She falls into bed. She doesn't even have the energy to cry about it.

When her mother gets home, Quinn is sure she looks even worse, because she's given more painkillers and some hot soup. She doesn't even have a shred of hope left, and she can't even begin to consider what her next move should be.


	3. Future

**Future**

Her alarm goes off, and she checks the date mechanically.

February 24th, 2012

She sighs heavily, but at least she feels capable of getting out of bed today.

In the shower, she has a brainwave. She keeps trying to be the hero, trying to stop them from making a mistake. She tried standing by passively, and it didn't work. Maybe she has to actually be the villain.

Maybe, if Finn and Rachel both hate her, then their futures can unfold.

So she goes to school. She convinces Brittany she's psychic when she performs the choreography before she's taught. Finn announces the wedding. They win Regionals. She shows up at Coach Sylvester's office early, and, surprised at her gumption, Coach gives her the uniform.

When she finds Rachel in the hallway, they have that same painful conversation, and Quinn asks to attend the wedding. Quinn hugs her, and tries to keep her composure.

She goes to Cheerios. This time, when Coach Sylvester keeps her behind to discuss strategy, Quinn lets her. She even lets the conversation linger.

As she's leaving the school, she sends Rachel a text.

 **Ran home to get my bridesmaids dress.  
Be there soon.**

She heads home. She puts on the bridesmaids dress. She sits on her bed. She waits.

Rachel has already texted her to hurry up, and she does not respond. Now, sitting on her bed, she gets the text that sealed her fate in the past, the one she couldn't help but respond to, because it was Rachel.

 **WHERE ARE YOU?**

Quinn wishes she felt worse about the lie she sends.

 **ON MY WAY**

She sits back on her bed, and waits.

At ten minutes after five o'clock, she gets a call from Rachel.

"Hello?" she answers.

"Where are you? Are you okay?" Rachel's voice is panicked.

"I'm fine," Quinn tells her, as nonchalantly as she can. "What's up?"

"We were _waiting_ for you so that we could start the wedding! You said you were coming!"

"Oh. Well, I'm at home," Quinn says, trying to keep her voice steady. Her heart is pounding, and she's already closed her eyes in anticipation of Rachel's reaction.

"What?" Rachel asks, and her voice is dull, uncomprehending.

"Yeah. Sorry I couldn't make it."

"We _waited_ for you," Rachel says, a whining note in her voice now. "We didn't get married because you hadn't made it."

"Oh. That's good, then," Quinn says, and she feels like she's driving a knife into Rachel's guts.

"What?" That tone again.

"That's good. I'm glad you decided to wait."

"Did you _plan_ this?" Rachel asks hollowly.

"Yes," Quinn answer simply.

"How could you?" the voice is small, defeated. She hears Finn in the background, asking what happened. Rachel tells him Quinn sabotaged the wedding.

Evidently, even Finn knows that word, because there's an explosion of angry sound, "I'm going to _kill_ —" and the line disconnects.

Shaken and feeling disgusted with herself, Quinn makes sure every door and window of her house is locked. Not that she thinks Finn would actually hurt her, but…she just doesn't know.

She turns off her phone and waits out the evening. Finn doesn't come over that night. Judy is especially wary of her that night, given her withdrawn mood. Quinn spends the evening in her bedroom, rationalizing her choice. Maybe by pushing Rachel and Finn together at this point, she can engineer the destruction of their relationship faster. Maybe giving them a common enemy will cause them to implode somehow.

But as she falls asleep, she really hopes that the future she's supposed to create isn't one where Rachel Berry will hate her forever.

.

She breathes a deep sigh of relief when her alarm wakes her up the next morning, and confirms her belief by looking at the date.

February 24th, 2012

But it leaves her flummoxed. What else should she be doing?

As she's breaking into her locker to get her dress, she realizes. Maybe it has something to do with Regionals.

Regionals had become such a routine part of her day at this point that she barely paid any attention to it, but maybe that was the key. Maybe they needed to lose Regionals, and maybe the loss would force Rachel to focus on her dream even more.

She could easily sabotage the performance, but she wants it to be subtle. She's already proven they can win Regionals without her, so it seems likely that anything subtle she does could be overlooked. However, if it's an obvious sabotage, it can't work. Rachel would just blame her.

Feeling fiendish mischief, Quinn wonders if she can somehow make it Finn's fault that they lose.

So during rehearsal, she interrupts Brittany to suggest the next part of the choreography, the part she already knows Brittany will give them. Brittany is surprised, and lets Quinn come up and help teach the others the rest of the dance. As they're dispersing, Brittany says, "I totally had a dream about you last night. You were older, and sad, but we danced together, and you felt better."

The words give Quinn a little chill, but she smiles and tells Brittany she believes her.

Now that she's established herself as an expert of the choreography, she pulls Finn aside before they're supposed to go into the auditorium to watch the other groups perform. "Hey. I noticed you were having some trouble. Do you want to rehearse?"

Finn looks anxious and relieved, "You noticed? Yeah, please, can you help me?"

"Sure," Quinn tells him, and proceeds to "refresh" him on the choreography, teaching him things out of order, and in the wrong direction. It's not totally incorrect, but enough small details are wrong that it should confuse him while he's onstage.

They watch the other groups perform, and backstage, Finn announces the wedding. She rehearses with him quickly, again, just before they go out onstage.

And as she expects, Finn is a mess, whirling all over the stage, while people dodge him. The first two songs go okay, but in the middle of "Here's to Us," Finn crashes into Rachel as she's singing. She clings to him desperately, and he manages to keep her on her feet. However, her voice definitely slides out of pitch in her shock.

They gamely continue on through the performance, but when it's all over, they win second place.

The whole team is in a state of depression. Rachel is pale, and teary, and, Quinn can tell, trying not to be mad at Finn as she tells him hollowly it wasn't his fault.

"I don't understand," Quinn says to him, making her own tone dull, "You were fine when we were practicing. What happened?"

"I don't know," Finn laments, bringing a frustrated fist up to his head. "I just…got confused all of a sudden."

"It's not your fault," Rachel repeats flatly.

"Um, except it's _totally_ his fault," Santana cuts in hotly.

Rachel doesn't even have a good response, and just looks away. With a frustrated snarl, Finn storms out.

Kurt comes over tentatively to Rachel and Quinn can hear him quietly reassuring her that they will still make it into NYADA, and they don't need a Nationals win to do that. Rachel agrees, but she had hoped to have a Nationals win before she left high school.

The New Directions students Quinn sees during the rest of the day all seem to be in a slump. She can't really blame them. She feels a little bit bad, but, she knows, it's not the end of the world.

She gets her Cheerios uniform toward the end of the day. She stops Rachel in the hall to ask to come to the wedding—though, this time she doesn't ask about the song that caused them to lose—and Rachel's sour mood is instantly transformed. But she stops. "I'm…not sure the wedding is going to be today," she tells Quinn quietly.

Quinn frowns, "What? Why?"

Rachel looks away, "Getting married after winning Regionals felt right. It felt like celebration. Since we've lost…I don't feel so much like celebrating anymore. And I haven't seen Finn at all. I'm not sure where he is or what he's thinking, and he won't return my texts." She looks at Quinn with sadness, "It just seems best to postpone it, for now."

"I…think that's for the best," Quinn responds delicately, "Do you want me to tell the rest of the New Directions for you?"

"Could you, please?" she asks.

Quinn nods. Rachel hugs her.

Quinn goes to Cheerios practice and spends her evening helping her mother with dinner. And as she goes to sleep, she feels excited. She has a good feeling about this day.

.

When her alarm wakes her up, she groans in frustration, and reaches for her phone, knowing what to expect, but checking anyway.

February 24th, 2012

She sighs, loudly, and pulls herself out of bed. What is hell is she missing? She's done everything she can think of. Yesterday—or what amounts to yesterday if every day is the same day—she got the wedding postponed without half-killing herself, and it still wasn't right.

She wracks her brain as she heads for school, and when Mr. Schue mentions Karofsky during the Glee rehearsal, she remembers.

Not that she'd really forgotten about Karofsky's suicide attempt in the past few days, or that the Regionals performances were dedicated to him, but she'd been so focused on Rachel that she'd tuned him out for the past several attempts at the day.

Maybe it's Karofsky that she has to help.

She goes through her day as normally as possible, not seeking to change anything. They rehearse. Finn announces the wedding. They win Regionals. She gets her Cheerios uniform back. She hesitates, but finds Rachel in the hall, and asks to come to the wedding.

She skips Cheerios practice and leaves school to head to the hospital. She thinks about Karofsky as she drives. She remembers telling her friends in the God Squad that she couldn't understand how he could be so selfish as to consider taking his own life. Her opinion over the years has changed somewhat. She knows the despair he must've felt—she'd felt despair like it, many times in her life. But she'd always had something to fall back on—God, or Beth, or faith that things _must_ get better. She sees that, now, as both a source of her own strength and pieces of luck that kept her from getting to the place that Karofsky found himself in.

And she just wants to tell Karofsky that it is going to get better. Even if her life hasn't been perfect, it's been good. She needs him to know his can be good, too. She only wishes she'd kept in touch with him on Facebook, or something, so she can tell him something real he has to look forward to.

It takes her some time to find where Karofsky is staying. The door is open, and she can hear voices inside. She stands for a minute, listening, and it's clear that Kurt is already here, doing what Quinn had planned on doing—telling Karofsky that it gets better.

She stands, indecisive, for awhile. Is there anything she can possibly add? What is she doing here, exactly?

She's just decided she should just turn around and go home, when she hears the door close quietly behind her, and Kurt is standing there. He stops and stares at her in surprise, then hisses quietly, "What are you doing here?"

Quinn spreads her hands, "The same thing you are, I guess."

He looks peevish, "I'm sure. I'm sure you can't possibly be here to tell him how selfish he was to try to escape the hell he was living in."

"I'm not," she defends, feeling more and more foolish the longer she stands here. "I wanted to tell him that things are going to get better for him, but—"

"Oh, please. Spare him the God lecture. I can't imagine what you could possibly tell him about things getting better."

"I just…" Quinn sighs, "I just _know_ , okay? I know it's going to get better for all of us. I know we're all going to make it out of Lima and become the amazing, queer adults that we are."

Kurt stares at her for a moment, looking a little shell shocked, "Queer?" he asks.

Quinn nods, grimly, "I'm gay, Kurt. I'm gay and I know I have a happy life ahead of me. I just thought he could get something out of hearing that."

Kurt continues to stare for a long moment, and then he spits, "You're a coward, Quinn Fabray."

"What?" she's dumbfounded.

"You think you're allowed to tell him about how _hard_ it is to grow up gay in Lima, Ohio? You don't know the first part of it. You've stood by, safe in your own closet, while people like me _couldn't_ hide, and while people like him got pushed out. You played the straight game so well that you got pregnant, that you've had three guys trying to get at you all at once. You've hidden behind your cross, and your blonde hair and your baby bump and now you want to tell me that you're gay, and it gets better. Well, fuck your It Gets Better project, Quinn. It reeks of cowardice."

"You have _no_ idea what I've been through to get to the point that I can even say it out loud," Quinn spits back, her voice choking up a little.

"Well, congratulations. Welcome out. Or, not really out. Because I'm not going to tell anyone what you've told me, but I know, you're not going to tell anyone either. Not until you're safe, far away at Yale, and won't have to worry about the judgment and hypocrisy of the bigots in your hometown. Bigotry and hypocrisy _kill_ , and they almost killed Karofsky, and I'm not going to let the symbol of cowardly hypocrisy take another step closer to him."

"You have no idea what you're saying," she defends weakly, though in a way, she knows he's not entirely wrong. She was still wrestling with her feelings at this age, not ready to admit what they might mean. She _was_ too cowardly, or maybe too blind, too deep in denial, to come out in high school. But that didn't mean it was easy, and it didn't mean high school wasn't hell.

"Go home, Quinn. Go get your bridesmaids dress, and come watch the girl you're obsessed with get married. Leave Karofsky alone."

"Fine," she spits, her heart rocketing around in her ribs, both in fury, and in panic, that he can see so easily how she feels about Rachel.

But when it comes down to it, she can't face Kurt again today. Maybe she is a coward. She texts Rachel, telling her she is running late and probably won't make it in time, and lets Rachel do what she will.

Her phone rings all through the evening, from both Rachel and Finn, but she doesn't pick up. If Rachel reacted anything like the last times, she won't go through with it happily without Quinn there. She's either postponed it, or told Finn she doesn't feel married. Either way, Quinn isn't all that curious to find out.

.

She's relieved when her alarm wakes her up the next day, because the previous day had been such a clusterfuck.

She stares at the date on her phone, her fury at Kurt boiling again.

February 24th, 2012

 _Fuck it_ , she thinks, and gets ready for school.

She marches into the school building, purposeful strides taking her to her locker. Brittany is nearby, as usual, and greets Quinn. Quinn is struck with an idea, "Brittany?" she asks, "Do you think you could let me make an announcement?"

"Sure," Brittany says easily, "I'm Class President, they let me make announcements whenever I want."

"I know," Quinn smiles, vaguely remembering the strange announcements Brittany used to make. She breaks into her locker quickly, and then the two of them head down to Figgins's office. Brittany smiles politely at the office clerk, who rolls her eyes, sighs, and passing the intercom to Brittany.

"What do you want me to say?" Brittany asks.

"Can I do it?" Quinn asks.

"Sure. Tell me when you're ready, and I'll start the announcement."

Quinn takes a deep breath, steeling herself. "Ready," she says quietly.

Brittany pushes the button on the little microphone, and says, "Attention, staff and students. This is your Senior Class President, here with a special announcement from Quinn Fabray." She nods to Quinn.

Quinn closes her eyes. "Hi," she says, her voice wavering, "My name is Quinn Fabray, and I'm gay and in love with Rachel Berry." There's a long pause, and then Quinn says, "That's all."

"Thank you, Quinn," Brittany says, tone even. "Tune in next time for important announcements from your Senior Class President."

Quinn is shaking by the time Brittany passes the intercom back to the completely shocked office clerk. "Come on," Brittany says, "We should get to the choir room."

"Wait," Quinn says, faltering a little, "Aren't you, you know, going to say anything?"

"Why would I? I'm bi and in love with Santana Lopez. It's wonderful, isn't it?"

"I guess. Except that she's engaged to Finn."

"What? No, she's not."

"No, not Santana. Rachel."

"Oh, yeah," Brittany says, then shrugs, "Well, maybe you can change that."

"Doubt it," Quinn sighs, thinking about how many times she's tried.

She tries to hold her head high when the two of them enter the choir room, but she can feel everyone's eyes on her. Everyone except Finn and Rachel, who aren't there yet. Kurt, in particular, looks shocked, but he smiles, a little, when he sees her. Quinn gives him a wary look.

Kurt stands and crosses the room, then hugs her. "Welcome out," he tells her quietly, "That was…incredibly brave."

"I feel so stupid," she tells him.

He shakes his head, "Well, your timing could be better, especially since we'll need to perform together and I'm not sure how Rachel and especially Finn is going to react…"

Quinn laughs tightly, and when she sits down next to Santana, people are staring less. At least Kurt helped break some of the tension.

Santana nudges her, "You're so fucked," she comments.

"What are you talking about?"

"I've been there," Santana says, staring at the whiteboard and not looking at her or Brittany, "And it sucks. And I'm sorry."

Quinn remembers Santana's misery when Brittany was dating Artie. "Yeah," is all she can think of to say.

Then, Santana smirks, "Though, it took you long enough. From the moment I met your repressed ass, I knew you were a big ol' dy—"

Mr. Schue clears his throat, "Well, I suppose we'll start now. I'm sure Rachel and Finn will be along in a moment."

It's almost halfway through rehearsal when Rachel and Finn arrive, both looking distinctly uncomfortable. Finn glances at Quinn, as if making sure she's here, and his face is a mess of confusion. Rachel doesn't look at her at all, and Quinn's heart sinks.

Backstage, Finn doesn't announce the wedding, and Quinn perks up at the change to the timeline.

They perform fine at Regionals, and win. They go back to class, where everyone stares at Quinn unabashedly, and Quinn gets her uniform from Sue Sylvester, who tells her that despite her foolish announcement, she still admires her.

This time, though, she doesn't go looking for Rachel. It's Rachel who finds her.

"Quinn, I…um, nice uniform?" Rachel greets, looking perplexed at her attire.

"What do you think?" Quinn asks, unable to allow the distinctly vulnerable question "how do I look?" come out of her mouth.

"I want you to be happy," is Rachel's response. Quinn nods, and stares at her expectantly. Rachel takes a deep breath. "Finn and I were going to get married today."

Quinn tries to look surprised, "Today?"

Rachel nods. "Yes. But…we're going to postpone it."

"Because of me?" Quinn asks.

"Yes," Rachel still can't quite look at her, "I just…I couldn't do that to you. I couldn't ask you to attend the wedding after what you did."

"I…thank you, I guess."

"I'm giving you time to get over me," Rachel tells her softly, "Because I really want you at the wedding, but I want you there able to support me."

"Rachel…" Quinn sighs, "I might never be able to support this."

"But you can get over me, right?" Rachel implores, sounding desperate. "Given enough time?"

"I…maybe," Quinn lies, knowing that even as an adult, twelve years later, she's still not completely over Rachel Berry.

"I need you to be okay with this."

"I don't know how to be," Quinn tells her honestly, "I want you to be happy, but…I want to be happy too."

"Finn is what makes me happy," Rachel says stubbornly.

"I know you say that now," Quinn says, cringing a little at her choice of words, "But tell me one thing. If you weren't with Finn…"

"I don't know," Rachel shakes her head roughly, "God, Quinn, I just don't know. I can't process this right, I can't even think clearly. You're so important to me. You're so beautiful and smart and amazing and brave. And…I just don't know. Telling me to forget Finn…it's just not that simple." Rachel looks at her for the first time, "I thought I had my life planned out. But now I don't know what to think."

"You're always allowed to change your mind," Quinn offers.

"I can't," Rachel tells her, "That's why I need you to be okay with this. That's why I need you to get over me."

"I can't make any promises," Quinn says softly, then turns and walks away, leaving Rachel looking desperate and hurt behind her.

Somehow, this has affected Rachel, even more strongly than the other time she admitted her feelings. It's thrown Rachel into a desperate state of mind.

Quinn almost feels triumphant.

As she's heading for Cheerios practice, she's approached by Finn.

"I really need you to get over Rachel," he tells her, while passersby all stare at them. One guy yells something to him about his girlfriend "lezzing out."

"I really need you people to stop telling me how to feel," she spits.

"Don't you get it? I need to marry her, and you're standing in the way."

"I can't stand in the way of two people who want to get married, unless one of them isn't sure, can I?" she challenges.

He frowns, and she can see the gears turning, and she walks away before he can say anything else.

She's catcalled by Rick the Stick and a few other obnoxious boys on the way to the locker room—something about them "fixing" her. She ignores them.

Inside the locker room, some of the girls stare at her warily, but by now, they're all used to Santana and Brittany, so they relax after a moment. Besides, Quinn is already dressed, so all she does is stash her belongings into a locker and head out to the field.

After practice, as she's heading to her car, she sees she has a voicemail from Rachel.

She listens as she sits in her car.

"I just…wanted to clear up some things about our conversation. I don't want you to get the wrong idea. Yes, of course I have some doubts about marrying Finn. I think everyone has some doubts when they're getting married. But it's _my_ choice, and I've already chosen it, and there's nothing you can do to change my mind. I don't want you to live in false hope, Quinn. I've already chosen Finn."

Quinn throws the phone aside and drives home. She storms into her room.

As she's lying down, she realizes, Rachel is presenting it as a choice. A choice she's already made, but a choice between Quinn and Finn nonetheless.

There's the tiniest spark of hope in Quinn's chest. Maybe this _is_ the right timeline. Maybe that notion of a choice will stay in the back of Rachel's brain as she postpones her wedding, and postpones it again and again.

Maybe this timeline is one Quinn can work with.

.

When the alarm wakes her up, she just wants to cry.

She's frustrated, she's delirious with the monotony, and she's angry. She's done _all_ she can. She's tried _everything_ , and even when she's sure she's made some headway, she's just pushed right back to the beginning. Right back to that fateful date.

February 24th, 2012

She has no idea what to do with this day, so she just goes with the flow for awhile, thinking. She can't stop thinking about Rachel's distress the previous incarnation of the day, her inability to completely let go of the idea of Quinn.

It isn't until she has her Cheerios uniform again and she finds Rachel that she decides to try to say anything.

"When you were singing that song…you were singing it to all of us, weren't you?"

Rachel's face splits into a smile, and she nods.

"Singing really makes you so happy, doesn't it? Singing, and performing, and being a part of something special?"

"It does. It really, really does.'

"Don't you think that's the future you should be building?"

Rachel frowns, "What do you mean?"

"What I mean is, performing is your destiny, and because it makes you happy, I want to make sure that you get there."

Rachel narrows her eyes, "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying, I'd love to come to the wedding, if I really, truly believed that marrying Finn would help you on your way."

Rachel's shoulders slump, "I should have known you'd try to talk me out of it one last time." She fixes Quinn with a hard look, "I want you there, I really, really do. But I won't make you attend. And if you can't support my marriage, at least support my choice. Wasn't it something you said? You can't change your past, but you can let go and start your future, or something like that? I _am_ starting my future, and I want Finn to be part of it. Believe me when I say, I won't let him hold me back. I'm taking him with me, and if you can't accept that, or believe in me, I don't know what else to say to you."

"You really think you can drag him with you?"

"Quinn," Rachel says sharply, "You just have to accept that there are some things you can't change. Come to the wedding, or don't. But if you do, accept that this isn't a choice for you to make. It's _my_ choice, and it's _my_ future to build, and I'm going to build it _my_ way."

Quinn is struck by her conviction, and by having her own words flung back in her face.

 _You can't change your past_.

Quinn doesn't attend the wedding that evening. But that's because she finally knows what she must do.

.

Quinn wakes up. She showers, she puts on her babydoll dress. She's a bit cold to her mother in the morning, much as she feels bad doing so. She goes to school. She breaks into her locker quickly and subtly, and heads down to the choir room.

She practices, pretending that she doesn't know the new dance, just like everyone else. She watches the competition, stands up during the Warblers' number. She listens to Finn's backstage announcement, chewing her lip, eyes on Rachel.

She helps win Regionals. She celebrates alongside her team. She goes back to class. She goes to Coach Sylvester's office, and acts surprised and grateful when she's presented with her uniform once again. She puts it on, and confronts Rachel in the hall, and they have that same, painful conversation one last, painful time.

She goes to Cheerios practice. She lets Sue keep her late, talking, and then she texts Rachel just before driving home.

She gets her dress. She puts it on. She gets back in the car.

Her adrenaline rises when she gets stuck behind the tractor.

And only moments later comes the text.

 **WHERE ARE YOU?**

Quinn doesn't let herself think, or second guess anything, as she reaches for her phone. She glances up. She can see the stop sign ahead of her, but she holds the phone, tapping out her reply. Her heart is pounding, and she's doing all she can to stay relaxed. She doesn't know how the outcome of the accident might change if she's tense. She knows that can lead to more damage to the body.

Quinn stays loose, trusting in the Higher Power that governs the world, as she replies.

 **ON MY WAY**

She has a vague awareness of brutal impact, a sound like a cannon going off, and then nothing.

.

It feels like only moments later that Quinn wakes up to her alarm.

She nearly shouts with joy when she realizes it's not "O-o-h Child," it's the latest Tegan and Sara hit from their reunion album.

She touches her body, her tank top and boxers, the parts of her that aren't teenager-scrawny anymore. She taps her phone to turn off the alarm, and gets up. It's almost difficult to remember that she is supposed to do today, but she at least knows she has to go to work, and as she goes through her morning routine—which is still pretty similar to her morning routine in high school—this timeline starts to come back to her.

She goes to work, thinking all day. What was the purpose of being sent back in time to live that day over and over again? She couldn't change the past. That became abundantly clear.

But she'd learned a few things, hadn't she? She'd always known that Finn and Rachel were not ready to get married, that they weren't right for each other. But especially that day she made that announcement, she learned…Rachel thought of her as a choice she could possibly have made.

After work, she takes the Green Line to her neighborhood. She sends a text to Puck to ask if the current phone number he has for Rachel is the same that she has, and he confirms. She walks home and steps into her empty apartment. It's good. This might be a difficult phone call, and she doesn't want Kristi to overhear and make her self-conscious.

She calls Rachel Berry's phone number.

She answers on the second ring. "Rachel Berry speaking. Is this…Quinn?"

Quinn breathes out, her body relaxing somewhat. "Yeah. It's me. Hi," she says awkwardly.

"Hello," Rachel says, her voice soft, "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Listen," Quinn says, "I'm going to be in New York this weekend," she decides on the spot, "And I'm wondering if you'd like to meet up and talk? I've been thinking a lot lately, and I think you and I both deserve a second chance."

Quinn squeezes her eyes shut anxiously. It's probably the bravest thing she's ever said.

"I'd like that," is Rachel's quiet, breathless response.

Quinn smiles.

She can't change her past, but she can always start her future.

 **A/N: Title from Kaki King, "Second Brain."**


End file.
